Days to England - 8
Operation: Mini-Skirt status: I've decided to do this in reasonable phases, with reasonable short-term goals. I'm 8 pounds away from my first goal. Therefore Op:MS = 8 to go.
Sideways.
Honestly, that's how I was knocked over from the response to yesterday's entry - sideways.
I knew that part of my weight loss success the last time was due to the fact that I was publicly tracking it. I also knew I wasn't being completely honest by not backing up the tracking. Not writing about Bernstein inhibited my writing in many ways for a long time and yesterday I sought to put an end to that. Really, I just wanted to clear my head, and use the entry as a vehicle to move forward honestly.
The response was completely unexpected and absolutely boggling. I checked my email later on that afternoon, and found letters from people whose words I respect and am in awe of on a daily basis. I read, and through tears, I read it all again. Words of encouragement, words of gentle admonishment, and a veritable cornucopia of good wishes... it was something else, poppets. Thank you. Thank you so very, very much. There's a whole world of people out there with real ailments to deal with, with real problems, with devastatingly situations that they have to face every single day. That you indulge and forgive the preoccupation I have with the size of my bottom is incredibly kind of you.
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In other news, I need oral surgery. I went to the dentist for a regular cleaning last night, which was its usual play of mental torture and pokey fun. It's been better of late, actually. They didn't even have to freeze me this time! Don't say it; I know. Getting frozen for a regular cleaning is just on the wrong side of pathetic, but my poor little sensitive teeth demanded it. Hurt like the fires of hell every time she came at me with the pokey thing. Anyway, this time, they also did one of those 'round-the-world X-rays - you know, the kind where you stand there and bite down on this plastic nibby thing, and then you're not allowed to swallow for fifteen seconds because of the beamy thing travelling around your head and possibly frying various brain cells. Turns out that the last wisdom tooth I have has gone west instead of north, and now it's causing some major trauma in my mouth. Generally, it's being troublesome. So, out it has to come, which requires general anaesthetic, an oral surgeon, and a modicum of inconvenience. And possibly a swollen face. The whole prospect has me positively jumping for joy. Jumping. Can you tell? Jumping.
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In a manner reminiscent of days of old, probably due to the unleashing of extra brain weight and the consequent torrent of virtual back pats I received... your Mare... unbelievable, really... but your Mare... and it can only be attributed to the obviously magical cut of this skirt that's camouflaging the hip expansion project that's going on underneath it... but your Mare... is... rocking her outfit today. Seriously, poppets. I'm doing you proud. Plus? Just a little bit of cleavage. For when I bend over. And, oh look! A cute Piranha just walked by! Oh my... my pencil just rolled off my desk... again...
Happy Wednesday, my beauties.
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